Like the Kick of a Gun
by Copper.Shine
Summary: Renamon, a beautiful detective, plus a former criminal known as Beelzebumon, minus all trances of sanity, plus crazy twists of fate equals chaos. And against all hope and logic, love just might weasel its way into the picture. AU Tamers, humanized
1. Burn it to the Ground

**Title**: Like the Kick of a Gun

**Genre**: Romance/Humor

**Rating**: T (might go up later)

**Story Format**: Multi-chaptered

**Universe**: AU Digimon Tamers, humanized

**Characters**: Renamon, Impmon/Beelzebumon

**Warnings**: For this chapter, only cursing

**Summary**: Renamon, beautiful cop, plus a former criminal known as Beelzebumon, minus all traces of sanity, plus crazy twists of fate equals all-around chaos. And, against all logic and hope, love.

**Chapter Playlist**: "Black Hearted Love" by PJ Harvey; "Pardon Me" by Incubus

**Author's Note**: Guys, I'm ashamed to say it, but I sold my soul to this story.

And just want to point out this is set in the States, not Japan. I'd love to set it up in Japan, but I don't have the time right now to research daily life in Japan. So this way it'll just make it easier on me and hopefully everyone else, too.

Now, to get this out of the way and keep everyone from getting confused, Renamon's name will stay the same throughout the entire story, and Beelzebumon will as well, along with every other humanized Digimon in this. The first bit of this story is basically centered around Impmon, who is basically just a younger punk version of Beelzebumon. His transition from Impmon to Beelzebumon attitude-wise isn't as drastic as it is in the anime. He kinda grows up to become Beelzebumon on the inside.

Also if you guys get any ideas on where this story should go, feel free to tell me! I have no idea where it's going to go so any kind of suggestions are welcome!

With that out of the way, hope you guys enjoy the ride!

* * *

**Chapter One: Burn it to the Ground**

The first time he met her had been a complete accident.

For once he was actually minding his own business when he heard an all too familiar sound—yelling.

He stopped dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the empty street, his ears trained on pinpointing the ruckus. It came from the apartment building right in front of him, specifically the room closest to him. The light shining through the window penetrated the darkness provided by the night as easily as a knife through butter and it flickered as the people living inside moved about. From what he could tell the argument was one-sided—all he could hear was one voice, male, telling off someone.

His lips were pulled to form a disgusted frown. Absentmindedly he glanced over to his left and was met with his reflection playing across the glass of the antique shop he was standing in front of, the image faint because of the dark. A sixteen year old kid stared back at him with bright emerald eyes settled on a round pale face. His hair was a mess, a ruffled patch of dark purple that stuck out in every direction that obviously hadn't been cut in a while judging from its unkempt length.

The clothes hanging off his scrawny form added to his street kid appearance—a red shirt a few sizes too big with a wicked grinning demon printed on the front, ragged torn jeans that looked like they'd been to hell and back, red gloves over his hands, red bandanna over his skinny neck, and a silver chain hanging off his hip. Not to mention the overstuffed black backpack slung over one shoulder packed full of shit. Oh yea, he played the part just a little too well. Any cop who didn't immediately peg him as a runaway was a moron. Luckily almost every cop he ran into was just that—or maybe all of that coffee and fat packing donuts were making them hallucinate. Either way, as long as he wasn't caught, it was all good.

Glancing back up at the lit window and back at his reflection he glared at the faint image of himself and said, "Well now, ain't ya glad ya got yourself outta that shitty situation?"

He was referring to his own parents, both of them too caught up in their conflicts and fights to listen to their own son's pleas to make them stop. But he'd left them behind just a few months ago. They didn't matter to him anymore. As a matter of fact they probably didn't even know he was gone. Not that he cared.

As soon as he got the words out the door to the apartment building—the one with the man raising hell inside—swung open and a lady stepped out.

She looked like she should've been in college, but after squinting to get a better look at her Beelzebumon realized she couldn't have been older than he, if a little younger. She held the door to the building open long enough for Beelzebumon to pick out her features illuminated by the lights inside. Her hair was either white or silver, it was tough to tell, cut to form an angled bob style that framed her face. The purple haired boy didn't see her face but he got a clear view of her body, wrapped up in a sleeveless golden shirt and black pants. She must've worked out or something because she was in _killer_ shape. In other words, she was _freaking hot_.

The girl didn't even notice the purple haired boy practically gawking at her as she went down the steps and onto the street, heading in the opposite direction as the boy. Beelzebumon watched her retreating back, noticing how her shoulders were hunched slightly, just enough for him to tell, for a few seconds before his lips curled in a smirk wicked enough to match the demon's printed on his shirt.

If he could convince a girl like her to join up with him to travel the country with, _holy shit_! His mind was racing just from the thought.

"Time to make it a reality," he snickered to himself as he started off after the girl.

* * *

If there was ever one thing Beelzebumon could never get tired of, it was spying and stalking.

He'd successfully followed the girl all the way to Africa without her so much as glancing over her shoulder. Now that he thought about it he noticed how she really didn't pay attention to anything around her. His mouth twitched, wanting to be pulled down into a frown at the thought of her moping on about whatever the hell went down between her and who he guessed was her dad.

This went on until she led him to the park, and then to the playground. He ducked behind a bush and watched as she sat in one of the swings. She didn't move after that—hell, she could've passed off as a statue from how still she was. He watched her for a few more minutes before deciding that now was as good of a chance as any.

He decided to shatter the obnoxious silence.

"Aw, ain't that sweet," he started jokingly as he stood up from behind the bush and approached her, and he wasn't too surprised when the chick shot up out of her seat and shifted her body into a fighting stance, all in one fluid movement. He didn't give her a chance to ask questions as he continued, "A babe pining in the moonlight. Don't look to me like you're too happy there, toots."

Her eyes, icy blue from what Beelzebumon could tell, narrowed at his observation and gauged whether or not he was a true threat to her well-being as they watched every move he made as he sat in the swing next to her.

Beelzebumon's grin widened. She was feisty, he could tell it already. He liked that. "M'I right?"

After a second the chick decided that he didn't mean any harm and relaxed—at least, she _appeared_ to have relaxed, but Beelzebumon saw through it. She just shifted her stance from an obviously defensive position to something more casual, like standing there with a hand on her hip. She was still tense, ready to kick his ass up the street and down if she felt the need to.

But she didn't answer him or acknowledge a word he said.

Beelzebumon waved a hand in front of him as though that would catch her attention or snap her out of the haze. "Hel_lo_? This is class-A material, honey! Anyways, like I was sayin', I think you're really sad," it was funny…he honestly didn't mean to sound that sympathetic, but he ran with it and continued without missing a beat, "and y'know what that makes me? Huh? Pissed off, that's what. Seein' a good lookin' gal like you go to waste makes me wanna throw up!"

He made a face and stuck his tongue out like the urge hit him from just saying it.

"Why do you think I'm sad?" she asked calmly. He kinda liked her voice—cool and smooth like a river.

Beelzebumon snorted like she just asked him a stupid question. Which, really, she did. Hadn't she ever looked in the mirror and noticed how hollow her eyes were? They were practically billboards strapped to her head screaming 'Lonely!' Or maybe no one had the balls to point it out to her if she didn't already realize it herself. Either way, he continued incredulously, "_Why_? I mean, look at ya, you're out here all alone, mopin' 'round in the moonlight like a puppy that chewed up a slipper and got tossed outta the house." He pointed a gloved finger at her and narrowed his eyes, imitating a parent scolding a child. "You're in serious denial, lady. There's a whole world out there! But," he shrugged as if the whole thing didn't matter to him, "if you're happy gettin' yourself bossed 'round by people who don't even know what the heck the world's really like, be my guest."

It was difficult for him to tell if what he was saying was getting through to her or not. She had a _killer_ poker face. Not only that but her feline eyes were angled to where she probably didn't mean to look as intimidating as she appeared to be…not that he was intimidated by her or anything. She just had this intense stare thing going on that normally would've pissed him off, but it felt kinda good to not be looked down on like garbage the way most people looked at him. He didn't see any sign of contempt from her. Well, it was a start.

Finally she snapped back to reality as she said coolly, "If that's your best material, then you need a new writer."

With that, she turned back the way she came and walked away. Just like that, leaving Beelzebumon to gawk at her retreating back.

That was _not_ how he planned this thing to go down.

"H-Hey, where you goin'?" he snapped at her, his voice rising with each step she took. "That was rude, y'know! Didn't your parents teach ya any manners?"

She didn't answer. Probably thought he wasn't worth the time or breath.

A sly smirk spread across his features. "Apparently not. Well, maybe I can teach ya somethin'."

At the same time he reached into the pockets of his ragged jeans with both hands and pulled out a cigarette lighter (which he noticed he'd have to get a new one soon, this one's running low) and a single firecracker. A weak one, yea, but it was still a firecracker. It'd get her attention real quick.

As he lit the sucker he said, "And today's lesson we'll begin with tough love."

Then he threw it. _Right at her_.

He honestly didn't mean to get it so close to her. He thought the chick was _hot as hell_, for Christ's sake, why would he intentionally want to permanently mar her with burn scars from a pathetic five-dollar firecracker?

It might've been her intuition, or maybe her hearing was a whole lot better than he imagined if she managed to pick up the soft hiss of the burning fuse, when she turned around just in time to see the thing coming her way. With her eyes widened she did a _ninja back-flip_, the kind of move you see in movies, at the last second and got herself well out of its reach as it detonated with a fiery 'ba-boom!' on the asphalt.

Beelzebumon couldn't help but laugh at it. His plan, which under normal circumstances would've been fucked up by some crazy-ass twist of fate as it held an all too obvious grudge against him, _worked_!

He heard her growl and met her icy glare with a smirk, throwing his shoulders back and taking on a triumphant pose.

"Hey, take it from me, toots, ya gotta quit bein' stupid to really be free! Take off while ya got the chance!"

The purple haired boy took his own advice and gave her a loose two-fingered salute and shit-eating grin before bolting down the street, his backpack slamming against his spine with every stride.

He didn't need to look back to know that her icy gaze was fixed on his retreating back.

And for all the wrong reasons—okay, maybe some of them were right, too— the thought of someone like her taking interest in someone like him made him smirk like the devil he was.


	2. Good Enough

**Chapter Two: Good Enough**

A week went by as quick as a snap since the lemme-talk-some-sense-into-ya-and-pitch-flamin'-firecrackers-at-ya-while-complimentin'-yer-good-looks-all-at-the-same-time incident.

And it didn't matter how many times Renamon tried to tell herself that the purple haired punk didn't know what he was talking about, because, in the end, she would think back on what he said and do just that. Think about it.

Did she really _need_ anyone in this life? Could she make it on her own?

But her grandmother's words, the same ones she would always tell Renamon's redheaded sister whenever she went through one of her self-isolation phases, contradicted everything the boy had told her. "_No one can make it in this world alone_." Was she wrong? Rika seemed to think so. She made that evident as she would constantly push everyone away from her in any sort of interaction, even something as diminutive as asking her to pick up items at the grocery store, her family tried to conjure with her.

The silver haired girl's thin lips tightened at the thought of her sister. She had forgotten to call her yesterday due to their father's…episode. Renamon couldn't really blame him for exploding like that. She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been fired from his job two seconds before she had walked in the door and decided that his oldest daughter was a good person to bitch at.

_Do I really need them_?

Renamon's icy blue eyes narrowed slightly at the thought. She could imagine her grandmother's reaction if she had spoken those words to the older woman—distraught and perhaps a bit disappointed that she would dare ask such a thing. "_Of course you need them, just as they need you_," she would say calmly, followed up by a reassuring hand placed on the girl's shoulder.

With a small sigh Renamon closed the book. The ink black words on the pages had long sense blurred in her mind and disappeared behind the foggy thoughts the boy had conjured up for her and she was too busy trapping herself in it to try and penetrate it.

Like a phantom Renamon drifted out of the library silently and raised a hand to shield the sun's blaring light out of her eyes. The corners of her mouth tugged down into a light frown as one thought solidified in her mind and made itself a fact.

She needed to confront him again in order to sort this whole mess—a mess that _he_ created—out.

* * *

Children were so damned lucky. Blessed with the gift of obliviousness for the simple fact that they haven't walked on the planet long enough to pick out what's real and what's not and what's truth and what's lies.

It made Beelzebumon sick. And to think he used to be like that made him want to puke that stale old pizza he'd had for breakfast this morning.

His bright eyes, which were trained on the family playing together in a clear patch of grass in the middle of the park, narrowed into a glare.

No, he wasn't staring at them, no, he wasn't thinking back on his own family, and no, he most certainly _did_ _not_ feel that pixel-sized spark of jealousy light up in his chest because he sure as hell didn't envy the mushy-lovey mawkish crap the family was tossing around as easy as the bright blue Frisbee whizzing in the air. Because all of it, every single bit of it, was a load of _bullshit_. Oh sure, they look happy at first, but as soon as the door shuts and everyone's in the house, isolated from the world they try so hard to trick and deceive, it all falls to shit. The façade drops and that's when the real fun begins. Instead of throwing Frisbees at each other they decide they're bored with the flawless perfect family lifestyle and start stabbing each other in the backs for no goddamned reason. Then that leads to conflict and yelling and fighting, and at the very end, _leaving_ because it's not worth enduring anymore.

"Fuck it," Beelzebumon hissed lowly, imitating a seething rattlesnake as his hands fisted onto the material of his jeans, "_Fuck_ it _all_."

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

The question was so sudden and caught Beelzebumon so off guard he bolted forward like someone had literally kicked him in the ass for being so stupid at staring at random strangers in the park oh-so subtly.

He didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

After regaining his composure he growled back over his shoulder at the silver haired girl—wearing a blue shirt and white shorts—behind him, "Not a blessed thing, toots, so tootles!"

With that he turned his back on her, stuck his nose up in the air like those rich snot-nosed kids he remembered seeing in school and took off, seriously hoping it was the last time he'd see her again. He didn't like having the fox chick get so close to see him act so weird over seeing a happy family.

But fate, being the bitch it was, wasn't going to let him off that easily.

* * *

Fifteen minutes.

She'd been following him for fifteen minutes.

She'd been _stalking him_ for fifteen minutes.

The whole time Beelzebumon had hummed random off-beat tunes to himself to distract that feeling in the back of his mind screaming '_hot stalker chick at six o' clock, captain_!' and pretended he didn't know she was there. He hoped she'd get bored with his purposefully bad attitude and scamper off like the puppy he accused her to be the other night.

Either the chick was just that stupid or oblivious or maybe she was just as stubborn and hard-headed as he was because she _didn't_ give up.

Finally when she'd followed him for the past four blocks he'd had enough of it. Whirling around to face her he twisted his lips into a snarl and his scorching eyes narrowed into a glare that met her calm azure gaze.

"Quit followin' me!"

"I have a question," she answered evenly, though he did catch that hint of amusement in her voice which bumped her up a few notches on his scale of annoyance.

Beelzebumon snorted and folded his scrawny arms across his chest defiantly. "And you think I care?" Then he blinked and followed it up with, "Okay, maybe I do care. I'm surprised I care 'cause I'm sure it's gonna be somethin' stupid!"

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he could've sworn he saw the girl's lips twitch. The beginnings of a smile, perhaps? He seriously doubted it, especially with this chick. She was too damn weird to do something normal like smiling.

"Why does one need to be with other people in order to survive in this world?"

…Now _that_ caught the purple haired boy off guard. For some reason this chick just had a natural ability to do that, and judging from the patient look she gave him she probably didn't even realize it.

Beelzebumon opened and closed his mouth a few times, not quite sure how to answer that. The chick waited on him to find his words, her expression devoid of anything resembling impatience or distain. As a matter of fact, the only expression he could pick out was curiosity and maybe a bit of confusion.

Finally Beelzebumon snapped back to reality and stopped imitating a fish as he replied back, surprisingly serious, "Ya don't. I mean hell, why do ya? Sure it's nice to have that mushy-lovey crap friends throw at each other for a few days, but then they turn 'round and stab ya in the back. Then what? You're right back to square-friggin'-one after all that shit ya tried so hard to fight for."

He mistook her silence for her not understanding instead of her contemplating what he said.

"Sheesh, do I have to spell—"

"I think I get what you're trying to say," she said suddenly, calmly cutting him off.

"You _get it_? Bah, you're jus' like all the rest of them idiots, 'I get it, I get it!'" he rolled his eyes and continued heatedly, "Well ya don't get it, you'll never get it and I'll be the happiest dude alive if ya never try to understand it!"

"I'll leave you alone, then." She said, her tone clearly stating that she was satisfied by the answers she had gotten out of him.

Beelzebumon blinked a few times. "Say wha—?"

When the girl turned her back on him he yelled at her retreating back with a shaking fist, "Hey, what the hell? Don't cha wanna hear what I've gotta say?!"

Apparently not. She just kept walking away until she disappeared like a friggin' ninja.

Beelzebumon glared at the spot where she vanished and slumped slightly, feeling a little deflated at the rejection-like exit she had taken from their conversation.

"Ah, ba-_boom_," he grumbled to himself as he plunged his hands into his pockets crabbily. With a huff he turned around in the other direction and, with another glare thrown over his shoulder, shuffled in the direction of the hotel he was staying at.

Chicks were freaking weird, every single one, and the one he _had_ to hate and somehow like _at the same time_ had to be the queen of weird.


	3. Chasm

**Chapter Three: Chasm**

There wasn't a single thing in the world more exhilarating and downright stupid than running from the cops.

It started with firecrackers, as always. Beelzebumon had pranced around for a full half-hour, pitching the flaming mini-TNT's at random people. They hadn't failed in giving him a show, and the looks on their faces were completely worth it.

"Hey, come back here!" One of the cops shouted.

Beelzebumon, grinning like a maniac, glanced backwards for a split second and crowed back, "Not a chanc—"

His words morphed into a yelp of surprise when a hand shot out and grabbed his shirtfront and yanked him into the shadowed alley at his left with unexpected force.

The next second was a complete blur as he suddenly found himself pinned against the brick wall, a palm pressed firmly against his mouth, forcing him to swallow the outraged string of curses he wanted to let out, a string that could've wrapped around the world twice.

But then when he saw _who_ it was that had him pinned he wanted to yell in shock. It only came out as a pathetic muffled squeak against his captor's pale, smooth skin.

It was _Foxy_!

And she did _not_ look happy. Her eyes were strangely burning with an icy azure anger, and she didn't need to say a word in order to get the message across. Beelzebumon, against all stereotypes and logic, was smart when it came to reading people. Between the firm grip that tightened with every movement he made in an effort to get away, her freezing glare, and the way her lips were tightened, she might as well had screamed the warning right in his face.

_Shut up __**or else**__._

Only when the sounds of the cops yelling and the clapping of their spit-shined glossy black boots against the pavement faded away into the night did she lift her hand from his mouth.

"Let. Me. Go!" Beelzebumon hissed like a snake, his words shaking with anger.

"Or what?" Renamon snapped right back. "You'll use that cigarette lighter of yours to boil water and make me some bad tea?"

She didn't give Beelzebumon the chance to say 'what the fuck' as she continued, "What _is_ it with you? Why do you intentionally go around wreaking havoc everywhere you go?"

The purple haired boy pulled his lips up in a feral snarl. "'Cause I can, and nobody's gonna stop me, 'specially you!"

"I didn't say I was going to try."

"S'that so? Then what'd ya call _this_?" Beelzebumon jerked his head towards the entrance of the alley and right at her.

"Saving you."

That won a growl out of him. "I don't need savin'!"

"So you want to go to jail?"

"S'not like I was goin' to! Those morons can't catch me!"

"Not from what I could tell."

"Then you need glasses, lady, 'cause I was doin' fine 'til you showed up!"

"Did you cause this much trouble for your family?"

He twitched. Immediately he snuffed that spark of regretpainsadness that lit up in his heart for a split second as he replied snarkily, "Pfff, like I could care less what the hell they think. I'm glad I left those idiots in the dust, I'm better off without 'em! S'not like I miss 'em or anything 'cause I'd be stupid not to!"

Everything would've been fine, perfect, if his voice hadn't cracked suddenly, unexpectedly. His eyes didn't tear up and the trembles in his muscles was for the anger raging through his veins, but the crack might as well have been an atomic blast in the maddening stillness of the night.

"Wait a second, chatty. You _do_ miss them, don't you?"

Beelzebumon's body went rigid like he'd been struck with lightning. He then channeled the crushing wildfire of negativity that had sparked in his chest through his fist, which connected with Renamon's cheek. She obviously wasn't expecting it because she released him then but still stood her ground. Beelzebumon, after being turned loose, stumbled backwards and whirled around so his back was turned to her.

Having her pick and pry at his problems apart inside and out was bad enough, but he'd never forgive himself if he let her saw how his eyes were welling up.

"I don't need anyone." He growled, every single muscle in his body tense. His voice twisted into an outraged snarl as he slammed his fist, the one he'd used to strike out at Renamon, and rammed it into the brick wall he had been pinned down upon.

"I **don't**!"

Renamon was statue still as she watched him pull his hand away, the first two knuckles shining from the blood starting to pour from the self-inflicted wound.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She was afraid to—well, she wasn't sure what it was she was afraid of. Hurting him? Angering him further? Whatever it was it rendered her speechless and kept her from uttering a word as she watched the purple haired boy shake from the demons rattling his bones and sanity.

Renamon couldn't bring herself to chase after him when he turned his back on her and darted off, his scrawny body disappearing into the shadows of the suddenly claustrophobic alleyway.


End file.
